


Exposure

by White Aster (white_aster)



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Summoner
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Photography, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-18
Updated: 2009-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-03 14:26:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raidou needs to make some cash.  Satake's got a job for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exposure

_click_

The first shot caught the kid fully-dressed. Well, still in his clothes. Satake had seen what the kid had taken off and piled not far away: a well-kept katana in a battered sheath, a few small pouches, and that harness with all the little tubes. The kid wore them so often that he looked a bit naked without them. The fact that they were still practically within arm's reach wasn't lost on Satake, either. Whatever he looked like, with his schoolboy's uniform and pretty face, Raidou didn't mess around. It was one thing Satake liked about him.

Despite Satake's honest description of what this job would entail, despite Satake's assurance that the photographer had strict orders not to shoot anything identifiable (the kid needed to be able to show his face in town, after all), despite Raidou's pained agreement (Narumi, the kid had said, was having money troubles and hadn't paid him in over a month), the kid still started a bit at the first click of the camera. Satake didn't hold that against him. He'd never seen anyone do this without some first-time jitters. Still, he had to give the kid credit: he stayed rock-still for the exposure until the photographer told him he could move.

"Just relax. Like you're at home," Satake suggested. "Makes it easier all around. Does a better job of it, too."

The kid raised an eyebrow, part doubtful, part amused, as if asking, _As if I normally do this with a camera at home?_

Satake grinned and spread his hands helplessly as he sat down against the wall. The bench, an older one evicted from the main bathing chamber into this side room, clicked against the floor as the short leg came down under his weight. "Hey, I just speak as a man, you know? C'mon, you've looked at these types of things, haven't you? The Fukugawa specials've made it over to Tsukudo-Cho, I know that."

Raidou shrugged, reaching up to undo his school cloak, but the brim of his lowered hat couldn't hide the blush spreading across one cheek.

"Heh. That's all right. Every boy does. Guys, girls, whatever."

"Stop, please," the photographer said, in his characteristic bored voice. How such a bloodless little old guy could take such good naughty pictures, Satake'd never figured out.

_click_, and Raidou froze again, cloak hanging off of one shoulder now, held onto the other only by the press of Raidou's hand. From this angle the brim of his hat hid everything but the uncertain line of his mouth. Satake was enough of a fighter to see the tension in the kid's bare hand. Nervous. It would show in the picture, but that wasn't necessarily bad. Added to the story.

A small sound from the camera. "Done."

"But you know what I mean," Satake continued, as if he hadn't been interrupted. He kept his voice light, conversational. "It's always better when they look comfortable, right? When they've forgotten the camera's there, and it's like they're all alone."

The cloak dropped to the floor.

Satake sat back, pulling his pipe and tobacco out of his yukata. Not that he looked away much while he was packing it, or even lighting it. "Better yet when it's like they know you're there. Like they know you're watching and don't mind."

Raidou's head tilted, looking at Satake from under the brim of his schoolboy's cap, meeting his gaze with a question in one blue eye.

Satake looked back, eyebrow raised and lips curved in an answering smile. He drew in, then breathed out smoke in a long sigh.

A burst of laughter from the main bathing room filtered through the walls, then died back into the usual sounds of splashing and wood on wood.

Raidou reached for the buttons of his jacket.

_click_

Things went more smoothly after that. Who knew that the kid just needed an appreciative audience? Raidou's grace returned, fingers slow on the buttons of his jacket, then his shirt. He paused when the photographer spoke, even half through shrugging off his shirt and jacket. The pose made lines of lean muscle stand out against his skin at forearm, bicep, and chest. Satake might call him kid, but he wasn't thinking that right then.

Satake watched, smoking, as the shirt and jacket fell, and Raidou reached for his waistband.

_click_

Three buttons undone. The white cotton of his drawers framed against the parted fly, the cloth tight enough that Satake could see the outline of his sex, curving up towards the muscle of his belly.

_click_

The buttons of his drawers undone and laid open, black now framing white framing a nicely hard cock jutting up from black curls.

_click_

Trousers and drawers dropped, shoes and socks removed, and he would look ridiculous, standing there with nothing but his hat on, if he wasn't still holding Satake's gaze. His stance was hipshot, almost cocky, nervousness gone now. It was a damn shame, Satake thought, that none of the pictures were going to show his eyes and how the icy blue of them was no longer cold. Not by a long shot.

_click_

The photographer asked Raidou to turn, no doubt so he could get a shot of the kid's fabulous ass, then tsked at the ragged scar that ran down the left side of his back, too messy to be from a knife. The sign of violence, of survival won against the odds, only made it hotter in Satake's opinion, but the photographer directed Raidou to half-turn to the right to hide it. The curve of his ass made a fine silhouette.

_click_

That was as far as Satake had expected him to go, as far as he'd outlined in the job description when the kid had shown up asking if he might make a little cash. Satake's about to say something when Raidou cocked his head, eyes challenging, pale fingers wrapping around pale skin, his head falling back as he started to stroke.

_click_

Satake's voice was rough but steady. "Ichiro. Out."

The photographer grumbled but heaved his camera up, taking it with him and sliding the door shut a bit harder than necessary.

The kid was on him, straddling his lap almost faster than Satake could get his yukata open. Raidou said nothing, his wry smile talking for him. Satake grinned back, pulling a vial of oil from the folds of his obi. "That's what I like about you. Never afraid to go after what you want."

The noise Raidou made in response, as Satake's slick fingers found the cleft of his ass, was answer enough. He leaned forward, hands on Satake's shoulders, and the bench rocked slightly on its short leg. Satake pressed two fingers into the tight heat of him, and air hissed through the kid's teeth as he rubbed himself against Satake's stomach. Before Satake even felt the grip around his fingers loosen, Raidou was moving forward, pulling himself off. Satake went back for more oil, more for his own benefit than the kid's, and barely beat the demanding grind of hips against his lap.

"So impatient," Satake said. He curled a hand around himself, held steady and watched from inches away as Raidou lowered himself. It was faster than Satake would have chosen, but he was used to that. Like always, the kid's expression, the grit of his teeth, and the grip of his hands were a mix of pain and pleasure.

Satake'd stopped trying to question it. If the kid liked it rough, who was Satake to argue?

As good as it was, Satake supposed it was a sign of his age that he had to work to keep up. He certainly wasn't a teenager anymore, but he wasn't going to let the kid get the best of him. Luckily, Raidou made it easy, what with the way he drove himself down, each stroke tight and hot and _fast_ and barely slick. Satake just filled his hands with the kid's hips and held on, letting him do all the work. In the end, though, it was Raidou coming--his bared throat as he tilted his head back in pleasure, the quiver of muscle under Satake's hands, the small helpless noise he made in the back of his throat as he shot his seed against Satake's stomach--that sent Satake over the edge, thrusting a few times more, his vision going white behind his eyelids.

After a moment, Satake reached up to flick a finger against the brim of Raidou's cap. "I'll send you some copies of the pictures."

Raidou rolled his eyes, and Satake chuckled.

Yeah, he liked the kid. Who could blame him?


End file.
